Light Within Darkness
by Krimson Kane
Summary: After finally building up the courage to end his life, Wes finds his plans of suicide interrupted. He never intended on becoming a Pokemon trainer, nor did he plan to fall in love. Deciding to not throw his life away, Wes struggles to find meaning, going about his life with a new companion: a Poochyena that flips his entire world upside down. [Set in the Flame of Life universe]
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

" _ **What**_ do you mean it's _expired_."

The way the lady said it made it sound like I'd killed her only begotten son. I tried to remember my "training" and did what I could to ease her.

"I can talk to my manager," I told her, doing what I could to make sure not to raise my voice. I looked behind her, seeing that a line was forming. If I didn't get her through checkout soon enough I was _going_ to hear about it- not just from her. I could feel my manager staring a hole through me. She liked to stand in the back, near the produce section, watching us cashiers to make sure we stayed in line. Apparently, according to a few people that _used_ to work at the local Pokemart, where I was so _happily_ employed, she took notes. But this was Janet we were talking about. It didn't surprise me in the slightest.

"I don't want to talk to the manager," the woman who was causing me so many issues yelled, nearly at the top of her lungs. "I want you to take my _fuckin_ coupon!"

I looked down at it. In her hand- her wrinkled, spotted hand- was a coupon that saved only 200 Tabs. To put that in perspective, 100 Tabs could buy you a pack of gum. I was tempted to just pay it myself. Just to get her to move through the line already.

I glanced up to see Janet, eying me like a hawk. Standing beside her was her Machamp, Rusty.

He was in his human-like form. Pokemon can sometimes use their powers to change into people-like forms. I never really understood it much.

You see, I was never allowed to be anywhere _near_ Pokemon. At least when I was younger, but it was drilled into me to keep my distance thanks to my Mom.

"Did you hear me?!" the woman shrilled. I hadn't been paying attention, my mind wandering off. Her outburst was enough to get the floor manager, Janet, to step up to the plate. She slipped on a mask of happiness. As if someone could ever been happy working for a Pokemart.

"What seems to be the problem?" Janet asked, Rusty standing beside her. I could always tell what her approach was going to be. If she were to schmooze a customer, she'd have Rusty smile and relax. If it was a matter of intimidation, she'd make sure he stood at attention. Nobody fucked with Rusty. I heard a guy once tried to tell Janet off after he was refused to purchase alcohol. The drunk was thrown out of a closed window. Nobody really tried anything bold after that- drunk or not.

"This rude employee of yours _refuses_ to take my coupon," she spat. I thought her dentures were going to fall out of her mouth. Her purple and blue veins were popping out of her forehead. She smelt like moth balls and expired milk. I'd done my damnedest to stay a few feet away from her. Janet didn't seem phased by _anything_ this older woman had to offer.

Janet turned to Rusty. "Move everyone over to lane 6," she told him.

He nodded.

Rusty went about motioning for customers to move to the lane next to mine, so that Janet could take care of the situation at hand. The biggest fake smile was donned as Janet cleared her throat. I caught an evil look from her.

"May I see that coupon?" she said. The woman jerked it to Janet. I stood by, wishing I was anywhere but there. Janet looked it over, taking far too long to read what it said. She nodded. Make a face. Really tried to sell the fact that she was putting in an effort to read what it all said. It clearly stated at the bottom that it expired a week ago. "Well, it _does_ seem to be expired, but I don't see why we can't still except it. It _is_ a coupon after all!"

I wanted to groan. I'd heard her use that line almost every week at least _once_ since I started working at the hell hole I was employed in.

To anyone thinking about joining the denizens of Pokemart: don't. Work anywhere _but_ Pokemart if you value your free time, your sanity, and your will to live.

At the time, I valued very little of either of said things. Maybe that's why I'd worked there for so long.

"Thank you very much, Ma'am," the woman said, scoffing when she looked to me. "At least _some_ people aren't trying to rob me blind.

You ever hear a pencil snap in quiet classroom. Yeah, I think that's the sound my brain made. The mask I wore at work fell off and my true feelings came to play.

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch I would have accepted the fucking coupon in the first place," I said as sober and effortlessly as the thought had been in my mind. I knew I'd fucked up that moment the words escaped my mouth. Janet looked at me, completely struck with surprise. The elderly woman looked as though she'd been slapped in the face. It made it all worth it, even though I knew I fucked up.

I didn't care.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that!" the woman screamed. I took another step back, her breath nearly knocking me off my feet.

"Your breath smells like shit," I began. "Your face belongs in a museum and your attitude is worse than your breath. So, for what it's worth, go fuck yourself, you sorry sack of Arcanine shit."

She fainted.

 _ **I**_ typically kept my nose clean and had never been in Janet's office. Rusty was out on the floor keeping an eye on things while her and I had a "chat." I knew I'd lost my job, so what was the point in telling me how bad I messed things up. I sat there, arm propped to hold my head up as I watched her tap her fingers on her desk. She was hunched forward, eyes stabbing into me. I just didn't care.

"How long have you worked her, Wesley?"

 _Too fucking long,_ I thought to myself. _But I bet that's about to change_ real _fast_.

"About eight months," I told her. I was oddly calm for someone who was about to lose their job. Someone who _needed_ a job. The only thing I could think of were two words that came to me as clear as day.

 _Fuck it_.

"That's not a very long time," she told me. To my surprise, Janet eased up a bit. She leaned back in her chair, taking a look at the security camera monitors. There was one in just about every department so she could keep track of things. Nobody every stole anything, thanks to Rusty. And nobody really got out of line, also thanks to Rusty and the broken window he created with that drunks body. Pallet town is pretty small. Word travels fast.

"When I hired you, I had my doubts," she told me. "But you showed up on time. You picked up extra shifts. You stayed late when I asked you to. You've been a model employee, and have been an inspiration for the new hires.

 _Inspiration_. What a joke.

"Thanks," I sighed. "So, I guess I'm fired?"

Why not save the time and jump to the punchline, I figured.

Janet grew quiet, placing her fingers together, making a sort of web with her hands. She, in many ways, reminded me of a black widow. Black widows aren't a Pokemon- they're a type of spider. Not a lot of people have heard about them. Her short, black hair was swept to one side and almost made her look boyish. I think it was her body frame. From the stories I heard, she used to be a body builder. But times change, and so do people. She kept in shape, but no longer had muscles that could crush rocks. Still, she could easily take on any giant of a man who wanted to fist fight her.

She didn't move or say anything for a while.

Like a spider, just watching it's prey caught in a web squirm.

But I wasn't squirming. Frankly, by that point, I couldn't give a shit.

"No," she finally spoke after some time. "I'm not going to fire you. I think that would be to rash. Wes, you've been an exemplary employee. I know I may not always show it, but I commend your hard work. But I can't have you making our customers faint in the check out lanes. That's not good for business."

She cracked a smile, showing what little empathy she had.

"So am I suspended?" I asked, lacking the energy to be concerned.

"Also a no," she said. "The only reason I'm going easy on your is because you've worked hard these past few months, and I'd hate to see you lose your job over a... mistake."

 _Translation,_ I thought, trying not to laugh, _you can't find anyone is this shit town that wants to work at this forsaken hellhole._

"You'll be stocking shelves instead of working the register," she told me. "Just like you used to when you first started working here. I think a change of pace might be just what you need to get back into the Pokemart spirit."

I couldn't see how she took herself seriously spouting that kind of crap.

"I'm going to have you go home early today," she said. "Come in tomorrow at three."

I thanked her, trying to appear grateful.

There was a part of me that resented her for not firing me.

 _ **I**_ left, going about my usual after work ritual.

I swung by a small hibachi place by my house to get a bite to eat, picked up some cigarettes at the local corner store (I refused to buy them at work, seeing as they never had my brand I preferred), and went home to let out some of my frustration.

It started looking up porn at seven, finally found something worth doing the dirty to by eight, and was adequately disgusted with myself by nine when I finally finished the deed.

A wad of tissue paper was crammed into the red bucket I used as a trash can underneath my computer. I sat there, bare ass on my computer chair, just watching the rest of the porn I couldn't finish through. I felt my stomach start to turn, soon questioning my life choices. I find that after a bad day, I always find the weird shit to get off to. I was more disgusted in myself than usual, finally closing the browser.

 _I'm going to kill myself_.

I froze. What kind of thought was that?

I let out a sigh, knowing all too well what it really was: what I wanted. The struggle with my mental health had been getting progressively worse, and my lifestyle was showing it. I stayed up until dawn most nights, sat around doing nothing but smoking cigarettes, and rarely did I ever clean. The pile of dishes in my sink had started growing mold and the sheets of my bed had been kicked onto the floor after many sleepless nights.

 _I'm going to just do it_.

I laughed at the idea. Just... ending it all. The small voice in my head, in the very back of my mind- like the trouble maker of any classroom who gave any teacher grief- just kept on talking.

 _Dude, just fucking end it already. You're 23, going on 24, and you've accomplished_ nothing _in your life worth mentioning. You have no skills, you have no drive, and you're working at a place you can't stand. So why not just end things now, the way_ you _want them to. For once in your life, don't be a little bitch. Life has no meaning, no one is ever going to love you, and you're better off ridding yourself of the world that's shown you nothing but pain._

I found myself staring into the opened drawer of my desk.

I don't have any family left. My father passed away when I was a kid after a life a drinking. My grandparents weren't in the picture anymore, having passed away in their sleep. They died the same night. Kind of romantic if you ask me. And my mother, of all the people, killed herself. She wanted to be closer to God. Not Arceus, but _God._ She dedicated her life to her God, crying out to anyone who would listen to her about the False Prophet.

" _Arceus is the spawn of evil!_ " she'd cry to anyone who'd listen. " _Read your bibles and know the truth about him! Arceus is a false god! He_ is _the devil!_ "

I was never one for religion, but I couldn't help mull the subject over in my mind as I continued to stare into the drawer of my desk, staring at a loaded revolver that used to belong to my grandfather.

I picked up the gun.

If my mom could do it, _I_ could do it.

"Yeah," I muttered to myself. "Tonight's the night."

Why not.

 _Nothing matters_ , the voice in the back of my head reminded me.

But I already knew that. Or at least I thought so.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

 _ **Pallet**_ Town isn't very big. But it does have a few commodities that makes it seem bigger than it is. The park, for example, is one of those things.

Years ago, the town of Pallet decided they wanted to encourage tourism and help encourage people to go outside. There isn't much to do in Pallet, so adding a park- a nice one- seemed like the best way to get people to do something other than sit inside, trying to escape the reality that they _did_ live in a town that was barely on the map.

The park is pretty large, and is on the southern part of town. It's near the ocean, so naturally the town put up a fence to keep people from falling off of the eight foot drop to the unforgiving water below. People still find ways around it; the one's who do typically fishing. Nobody really catches anything other than actual fish. Pokemon Trainers tend to be sorely disappointed when they snag a catfish on their line.

There's four tennis courts, two basketballs courts, a large play area for smaller kids (and adults who have nothing better to do), a large swing set, and even a battling blacktop for all the wannabe Trainers that like to battle each other. In the towns eye, it was better to do it there instead of the middle of a street or in someone's backyard.

To the north of the park, the part that's closest to the town, has a large patch of tall grass that people tend to avoid. Nothing dangerous ever pops out, but people don't like to risk it. Except Trainers, who go in the grass looking for anything that wants to fight. A lot of kids got hurt doing this, which actually ended up making a law in town pass. No Trainer was to be without a Holly Band when attempting to engage in combat with Pokemon or other Trainers. Rules were rules, and it was a heavily fined offense to anyone who didn't abide by this.

To those of you too young to not know what a Holly Band is, or if you've been living under a rock your entire life, it's sorta like your own protective bubble. Trainers use them to guard themselves from dangerous situations. Any harm that falls on a trainer when using the Holly Band correctly has said harm transferred to their Pokemon that is put on a sort of sponge mode I guess you could call it.

For example: say someone punches you in the face. Instead of taking that pain, it's transferred to your Pokemon instead. It's strange technology that convinces me we're already living in the future. We just don't know it yet. But anyways- I'm rambling again.

The park gets a lot of attention from all ages, whether it's people just wanting to walk on the circular path that went around the park, kids who wanted to play with their friends, of Trainers looking to scratch their battling itch.

So what better place to kill myself?

Gun stuffed in my hoodie, I walked along the walking path of the park, my mind elsewhere. I was rubbing my thumb along the barrel of the revolver, feeling it against my skin. Truth be told, this wasn't the first time I'd told myself I was going to kill myself. I had that thought every day, in fact. But now, for whatever reason, I was serious about it.

I smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.

 _I'm actually going to go through with it_ , I thought to myself. A wave of relief and freedom splashed over me. I was _finally_ going to be done with this hell.

I felt overwhelmed with joy, finally taking a seat on a park bench ahead of me. I placed my hands in my lap, taking a deep breath.

 _So_ , I thought. _This is how it's going to end. Someone is going to find me with my brains in my lap on a park bench_.

I reached inside my hoodie, just feeling the gun.

 _Finally, I'll be free. I'll be_ -"

"Keep your voice down!" I heard hissed in the darkness. It had come from the play structure not far from where I was sitting. It was about twenty feet away. My eye caught a flash of light from the upper level of the play structure- the bridge that merged two of the towers the kids played on. The town had made sure to make it a tunnel bridge. That way kids wouldn't fall off nor be afraid of the height of the drop below. It was also a great place to do things you weren't supposed to be doing, as it turned out. Being high above in a wooden play tunnel- you were pretty much hidden from everyone.

I was curious. So much so it distracted me.

 _What do I care if I do it with kids around. I'll be dead_.

I sighed. My state of mind was messed up, but not _that_ messed up. I was going to shoo whoever was up there away. Make them go home. From the sound of the hushed voices, it was most likely a couple of kids who'd gotten their hands on something from their parents liquor cabinet.

I stood up, not making a sound.

 _I'm probably doing the town a favor_ , I thought to myself, creeping towards the play structure. _That'll make up for the town cleaning up my body._

Seemed fair to me.

I made my way up the wooden steps that would lead me towards the walking bridge. I could hear three different voices, and something else. Something that wasn't human. But the sound was muffled, and only made me more curious.

"I'm gonna go first," I heard one of them say.

"You sure this is a good idea?" another voice questioned. It was nervous. "If someone catches us, we're in _serious_ trouble."

I paused, making sure I wasn't going to be heard. I kept going up, going from one part of the play tower to the next, having to ascend it by following its strange and erratic path upward. I was getting closer, but their voices started to get more quiet.

"Nobody is going to find us," I heard whispered.

There was another muffled noise.

What _was_ going on?

I peaked around a corner, the part of the play tower dark enough to do so while remaining hidden.

The tunnel bridge was lit with lights from phones having been set down at an angle in order to light what was going on.

Part of me wished they hadn't.

Three kids were hunched around a small thing I knew was a Pokemon. It resembled a medium sized dog with gray fur, darker fur covering it's face. It almost reminded me of the old cartoons when a character would have dynamite blow up in their face: the jagged, star-like appearance of dark fur looked like something had happened to this Pokemon. But all Poochyena looked like that. The only difference this one had was a part of its left ear was cut at the tip, missing part of it. Not much, but enough to be noticed.

It was held down by the neck and body, two teenage kids on each side of it doing the holding. The boy behind it had his pants off, his _thing_ in hand, appearing to be struggling with- well... you don't need me to get any clearer.

"I'm not sure if it's going to fit," he laughed.

"Just put it in already and give us a turn!" the boy on the left hissed.

The one on the right looked like he was struggling with the situation.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," he told them. Nothing changed though.

It had been a strange day for me. First I made a woman at work pass out on the floor, then I decided I was going to kill myself. Then _that_ was happening. Just because nothing mattered anymore didn't mean I was going to let them Zeus a Pokemon.

To anyone unfamiliar with the term, or those too young to grasp it, I'll put it to you this way:

Zeus is a character from really old books nobody really knows where they came from. He was some kind of god or something that liked to shove his dick into things. The term in small circles caught on, and turned into a slang term for doing the dirty with a Pokemon that _wasn't_ in its anthro form. So, essentially, just bestiality, but with Pokemon.

What's an anthro form?

Look, I don't know where the hell you're from, but if you don't know what that is, you _really_ have been living under a rock. You're slowing down the story; I'll get to what anthro form is later.

I went into auto pilot after that, storming out of the dark, furious.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" I boomed, the rage that I'd bottled up for years leaking out of me. All three of them froze. I didn't have to do anything; they took off running. The kid with his pants down lagged behind, almost not having enough time to grab his phone.

It was dark again, not able to see the Pokemon. Normally, I would have been more careful: Pokemon are dangerous. No matter what kind it is. No matter how weak. But if I was going to be killing myself, what did it matter? I would have _preferred_ not to be mauled by a Pokemon. A bullet to the brain sounded much more appealing.

"Sorry," I said to the darkness that housed the Pokemon in the tunnel bridge of the play structure. That was all I could muster up. I just didn't have the energy to say anything else. I did a good thing before I was going to die. It was better to just leave it at that.

A whimper came from the darkness. The whimpering was soft and pathetic. It sort of reminded me of myself growing up. I cried a lot when I was younger; the tears never really dried up until I was 14. But when I _did_ cry, it was always hushed. Just like what I was hearing now. The whining continued.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't frustrated. There's always that one thing that prevents you from killing yourself. Sometimes it's an unexpected phone call. Other times it's a person banging on your door to sell you shit you don't want or need. This time, it seemed, to be a Pokemon whimpering after almost being forcibly taken advantage of. The crying didn't stop.

I sighed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I'd already smoked half the pack that evening, leaving space to shove my lighter inside. I pulled a smoke out, flicking my lighter to produce a flame that would shine the way.

The darkness was cut through, revealing the crying Pokemon at my feet. It was helpless. Hopeless even. Just lying there as if still being held down. It's legs were sprawled out, as if having been knocked to the floor by blunt force. It didn't move.

I stepped closer, finding marks and and cuts in its fur. Its front leg was bleeding. Not only that, but it looked broken. The Poochyena continued to whine, looking up at me as if expecting me to hurt it.

I knew what I had to do.

 _I'm fucking nuts_ , I told myself, bending down to the Pokemon. With one hand, I scooped it up, still using my lighter to see. To my surprise, it in fact didn't go for my throat as I positioned her better against my chest, holding her with one arm. I let her injured leg hang, not knowing what else to to do with it. For being a wild Pokemon, she didn't try to maul me. My mother's voice played in the back of my mind.

" _Don't ever think about going near a Pokemon, Wesley!_ " I could hear her screaming in my mind. " _They'll swallow you whole before you know it! They're evil demons that will devour your soul!_ "

Well, the Poochyena didn't try to eat me.

And my Mom, with all due love and respect, was a crazy person.

With an unlit cigarette pinched between my lips, I headed off down the play structure, making my way for the Pokemon Center in town.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

 _ **The**_ Pokemon Center in Pallet town is _nothing_ like the ones in basically every other city. The one in Pallet is much smaller, with a lobby, a back room for where all the Pokemon are healed, and an upstairs lounge. At all times, the downstairs has a handful of trainers inside, no matter how late the hour.

I was the newest addition to roll in at what was nearly three in the morning.

All eyes fell on me when I went inside. The girl behind the front desk stared in wonderment as she watched me carry the Poochyena. She suddenly stood with a sense of urgency. I guess you could say I fed off of her energy, speeding up my pace as I made it to the front desk.

"What do we have _here_?" she said, calm yet unnerved.

"It's kind of a long story," I told her. "Can you heal it?"

The lady behind the desk looked at me funny.

" _It_?" she repeated. I sighed.

"It's not mine," I told her. "It's complicated."

She looked even more confused, then looked mournful when she heard it whimpering in my arms.

"Poor little Poochyena," she said. She looked up to me. "Who's is it? I can't do anything unless I have the proper paperwork filled out for the Daisy Machines."

I'll be honest with you. I didn't know what the fuck she was talking about, but I went along with it. I just had to assume that whatever a Daisy Machine was it was able to take care of the wounded Pokemon. Again, in my defense, I never grew up with Pokemon. They were evil, remember?

"I don't think she belongs to anyone," I told her. "I found a her with a couple of kids. They were trying to..." I stopped, leaning a little closer. "They were about to Zeus her."

The young lady behind the desk slapped a hand over her mouth in utter shock.

"They _what_?!" she blurted.

"They ran off," I told her. "I tried to catch them, but I didn't have time."

A horrible lie. I didn't feel like explaining that I didn't even bother. That would have made her ask why, and then I would have just blatantly told her I was going to kill myself anyways, so what the fuck would it matter? I decided sticking with a lie was better than the full truth.

"Did they... penetrate?" she asked wearily.

"I don't think so," I said. The lady wasted no time, reaching under her desk. She brought up a Pokeball that was minimized. I watched, amazed how it grew as she twisted the top half of it, making it expand in size. It was now three times larger. She held it, with the ball popping open. I didn't panic as much as I probably should have, watching as the Pokemon in my arms suddenly turned into a red light, being sucked into the Pokeball without warning.

The girl working behind the desk held the ball, examining it closely. It didn't move at all.

"Poor thing isn't even put up a fight," she said. She looked back up to me, giving a weak smirk. "At least now she can be healed. Stay there; I'll be right back."

She stood up from her chair behind the desk, making her way to a door on the back wall. I assumed that's where all the healing took place. I stood there for a moment, looking over my shoulder. Two trainers were staring at me. One was a girl with a bright yellow pony tail, the other was a guy wearing a sweatband and jogging clothes. An odd couple, to say the least.

"Did that really happen?" The guy asked. I nodded.

"Yeah," was all I said. I didn't want to waste time talking. I looked to the entrance, tempted to just walk out and do what I had already set out to do. The Poochyena was fine now. I could go about my business. But I didn't leave. I did as I was told, for whatever reason, just waiting for the woman behind the desk to return. Nothing that day made much sense. I decided that I wasn't going to end my life like I originally planned. Another day, I supposed.

"That's so messed up," the girl said, shaking her head. She raised her left hand, unintentionally showing off her Holly Band around her wrist. Said open hand balled into a fist. "People who take advantage of Pokemon are the scum of the world!"

"Settle down, Amanda," the guy said. "Breathe."

"Oh, I hate Pokemon abusers!" she burst. "I hate them! I hate hate _hate_ them!"

The two of them went back and forth for a while, giving me time to take a few side steps away.

A few trainers sitting on the couches near the entrance were exchanging small talk. I was so distracted by trying to listen in on what they were talking about that I didn't have time to notice the Chansey that was standing right next to me.

I felt a poke on my shoulder, making me turn. I jumped back a bit as if confronted with a monster. Standing before me was the figure of a woman- a very attractive woman I might add. Though she had the curvature of a regular woman, she had mixed features that stood out. Her skin was a vibrant pink, with a bit of paper white coloring underneath her chin. She had hair that was an even darker pink the whooshed out to the side with a sort of upward curve. Around her neck looked like some sort of strange choker. She was a Chansey in the form of a human- her anthro form, to be more exact.

You see, some Pokemon have the ability to switch forms- from their regular monster forms to their human-like forms. How do they do it? How _can_ they do it?

Look, stop asking so many freaking questions and just let me tell the story. Okay?

"Would you like a refreshment?" she asked me, derailing my train of thought. I was bewildered. It was _talking_ and not just saying its name over and over again. My mom's voice greeted me once more.

 _They chant because they're evil!_ I heard her voice yell inside my mind, distracting me for a moment. _They're chanting to channel their evil powers of death and destruction!_

"Um..." I didn't know what to say.

"We have ice tea, water, and even sports drinks, free of charge!" she chirped with a kind of excitement that was foreign to me. She acted as though she enjoyed her job.

I didn't know that was possible for a Pokemon, let alone a human.

"I'll take a water, if that's okay," I finally said. I kept staring at her choker. I'd never had a conversation with a Pokemon before. I'd heard stories about nic nacs that allowed them to talk. Talker Collars, someone once called them. Was she using some sort of choker that allowed her to speak?

 _Why not ask her?_ I thought. The idea of willingly engaging in a conversation with a Pokmeon was also quiet foreign to me. If my mother was still alive it probably would have sent her right back to the grave. Her son, talking to a _demon_.

The Chansey wandered off to the back, going in the same door as the lady at the front desk had gone in. Within seconds, she was back out and around the desk to face me. She extended a water bottle to me. I took it gingerly, giving an unsure smile.

"Thanks," I said.

"Of course!" she chirped merrily. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

Sure, I _wanted_ to talk to her- really about anything. I'd never had the opportunity before. Or at least I never thought I did. Tonight was weird enough as it was. Why not make it weirder by talking to a Pokemon?

"So, do you work here?" I asked. A stupid question I soon amended. "I mean, do you work here by your own will or are you forced?"

She gave me a curious look, then finally broke free of it with a smile.

"Oh, I work here on my own will," she told me. "The Pokemon Center Foundation assigns Pokemon such as myself to work for any of the Pokemon Centers I so choose. I grew up in Pallet, and love the people. Sure, it's a small place, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!"

I had so many other questions I wanted to follow up with, but didn't. The lady from before stepped out from the back door, holding the Pokeball in her hand.

"Everything's all set," she said. She extended it to me, as if expecting me to take it.

I just stared.

"Um..."

"You saved her," she told me. "And yes, it's a her."

Part of me figured that, considering the circumstances in which I found her in. Unless those kids really didn't care _where_ they stuck their things in.

"I don't... Um..."

The Chansey and the lady looked at one another, and then to me.

"Is something the matter?" the woman- the regular _human_ woman- asked me. I shrugged.

"I just... I've never had a Pokemon before," I admitted. She blinked.

"Oh." From the looks of things, she didn't know what else to say. "Well, have you considered having one?"

I stared at the Pokeball.

"Well, not exactly. I grew up sorta... different." I paused, seeing the bewildered expression that both the Chansey and the lady behind the desk had. I sighed, knowing I was going to have to explain _something_ in order for them to stop looking at me like some kind of weirdo. "I grew up with a mom that thought Pokemon were the creation of the devil. Not that I believe what she said, but she sorta... drilled it into my mind that Pokemon shouldn't be something to mess with."

The woman behind the desk let out a laugh.

"Oh, one of _those_ ," she said. "Well, that's not entirely uncommon. I've heard a few stories about it. My family is sorta the same. My bothers and I grew up with a mom like that. Our dad ended up leaving her for a Pokemon, ironically enough."

I continued to look over the Pokeball in her hand. I hadn't realized that I treated them like grenades thanks to my mom. It wasn't until then that I realized how off putting they were to me. For what reason? Other than my mom pounding it into my mind that they were bad, that was about it. I'm a little embarrassed by how uneasy I was when reaching out for it.

"If you don't take her, we can try to find her a good home," the lady at the desk said. "But she's not a top candidate."

I looked up to her, still holding the Pokeball. The Chansey lady at this point had wondered off, making sure that the rest of the guests at the ungodly hour of night were taken care of.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," the woman began, "for starters, she's not very strong. She's a level 2."

"I beg your pardon?" I questioned, not sure what a "level 2" even meant.

"You really don't know much about Pokemon, do you?" the lady said with a laugh. "Well, it pretty much means she's just barely stronger than a normal dog. Which isn't very impressive in terms of Pokemon. Here-"

The lady behind the desk extended something else my way. It was a Holly Band. It was an off colored cream color, with the screen scratched in places.

"This is from the lost and found. Somebody lost this a while ago and hasn't shown up for it. I figure you can get some use out of it instead."

I took it instinctively, not really sure why. I suppose it's a human reaction to just take what we're given, in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

One hand holding a Pokeball and the other holding a Holly Band, I really didn't know what to do with either of them. I must have looked pretty awkward from how the lady behind the desk responded. She stood up from the chair once more, taking both from me and setting them on the counter that separated us.

"Let's just start with the basics," she told me. "Go ahead and put that Holly Band on your wrist."

I didn't bother to argue with her, just doing it. I pushed back the sleeve of my hoodie to strap on the device, feeling it vibrating for a second.

"Don't freak out," she eased. "It's just getting a read of your vitals and linking up with you."

That sounded more unsettling than I wanted to admit, but I wasn't about to rip it off when it was doing... whatever it was doing. The screen suddenly lit up with text in the center.

 **No Active Pokemon** , it read.

I lowered my arm, looking to the lady.

"Now what?" I asked. She grabbed the Pokeball with the Poocheyena inside of it, turning it around. There was a small button on the back, with a strange looking nob below it. It had five notches, the little piece of plastic below the button set in the middle. There was a green maker that ran down below where the little nob-thing was. On the far left was a blue line that ran down. On the far right was a red line. Between the red and the green mixed, creating a yellow line that ran down the back of the ball. The notch between blue and green created a sort of sky blue color.

"I think it would be best to keep the Will Meter set on 0.5" she told me. "Or just Green. Whatever is easier to call it."

I didn't know what that meant, but I just accepted it.

"So... I guess I have a Pokemon now," I said a little surprised, taking the Pokeball from her.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked.

I wasn't sure what to start with.

"I'm not sure I understand _anything_ about this," I admitted. It made her smile. She went back to rummaging through the drawer she'd been pulling everything out of. I had to wonder if it was some endless portal that pulled out anything she needed _when_ she needed it. She seemed to be pretty prepared.

"Here," she said, handing over a booklet. It was small and rectangular, kind of like the small books my mom would pick up from her church when I was a kid. You know the ones- they talk about burning in hell almost constantly. They terrified me when I was younger.

Hell, they _still_ scare me, and I'm not even religious anymore.

"Read it over," she told me. "If you have any questions, just come back and see me. I'll be more than happy to explain."

I gave a nod out of habit, somehow accepting the fact that I _wasn't_ going to kill myself that night.

No, instead I was going to obtain my first Pokemon ever. A part of me felt excited. I had always wanted to be a Pokemon Trainer when I was younger. Until my mom preached the idea out of me.

"Will do," I said. "I never got your name."

"I never got yours," the lady smiled.

"I'm Wesley," I told her. "But everyone just calls me Wes."

I extended my hand out to her. She brushed her short hair aside from her face. Her dyed orange bangs were pushed aside, her dark hair reflecting some of the light of the Pokemon center.

"It's nice to meet you, Wes," she said. "I'm Amber."

I glanced at the Holly Band on my wrist, seeing that it displayed the time. Geez, it was getting late.

"Before you go," she told me, "you should probably resister your new Pokemon to you."

I raised an eyebrow, curious.

"And how would one go about doing that?" I asked. She pointed to the larger button on the back of the ball.

"Just press your thumb against it and it'll prick it. It takes some of your DNA and registers the Pokemon in the ball to you. Neat stuff, am I right?"

"Yeah, it kinda is," I told her. Without hesitation, I pricked my thumb. I didn't hurt all that bad. But wasn't enjoyable either. A little icon popped up on my screen. It was an 8-bit imagine of a dog that was supposed to represent my Pokemon. It read "Poocheya" with a little shield by her name. I knew enough about things to know that meant, by default, she was my active shield. Anything that would harm me would harm her instead.

"I'd stay and ask a long series of questions," I told her, "But I have to work tomorrow."

"Oh?" Amber said, curious. "Where do you work?"

"At the Pokemart," I admitted. She looked rather surprised.

"Really?" she said. "My aunt works there."

I couldn't help but succumb to my curiosity.

"Who's your aunt?" I asked.

"Her names Janet," Amber told me. "She's kind of a bitch."  
"Yep, I _definitely_ know her," I said. "I'm sorry you're related to her."

Amber sighed.

"Yeah, me too." She slouched forward on the front desk, resting her arms beneath her. "She was easier to tolerate when I didn't have to live in the same town as her. Believe it or not, I haven't always worked in this town. I used to work in Pewter City for a while. I bounce around quiet a lot, but now it looks like I'm working _here_."

We exchanged small talk for a little while before I told myself I had to go. It was almost four in the morning. I needed to get home before the sun came up.

"I'll probably see you tomorrow," I told her. "I know pretty much nothing about having a Pokemon."

"Well," she said, standing up once more from the desk, "when you get home, I advise you to let her out of her ball. Pokemon who've been through traumatic events tend to do better when they're not inside their Pokeballs. They do much better when out with their trainer."

 _I guess I'm a trainer now_ , was all I could think.

"She's not gonna... try and eat me, is she?" I asked sheepishly.

Amber laughed in response.

"No, I don't think so. Pokemon, even the extremely dangerous ones, don't turn on their trainers. The worst they usually do is refuse to listen. You'll be fine."

After a few more minutes of small talk, and a promise that I'd be there after work the next day, I said goodbye and headed for home.

 _ **It**_ was nearing five in the morning when I finally made it back into my studio apartment. I tossed my keys onto my desk near my computer monitor, missing the small bowl I'd left out for said keys to stay in. Rarely did I ever make my mark, and I never made an effort to take the time to actually place them inside said key dish.

I instead went right to my bed, flopping down on my back, Holly Band still on my wrist.

I felt the revolver bump into me, still inside my hoodie pocket.

 _I was really going to go through with it_ , I thought to myself, carefully unloading the gun and putting the hammer back in place. I put it back in the drawer, closing it lightly shut. _I was really going to go through with it_.

But I didn't. For whatever reason, I didn't.

I was too tired to question any of it.

Instead, I stared at the Pokeball in my hand. I wasn't sure how it all worked, but I winged it, going through the motions I saw other Trainers go through when wanting to send out their Pokemon. I lobbed the ball with an underhanded toss, watching it bounce against the floor. The ball snapped open, flying back to my palm like a boomerang.

A flash of red blinded me, not letting me see how the Poochyena formed, now standing by the foot of the bed in front of me.

She no longer looked injured, however the small bit of her ear that she was missing before had not returned. I chalked that up to being some kind of birth mark that couldn't be fixed. The Pokemon sat there in front of me, just staring. She had the biggest, most curious eyes I've ever seen. She cocked her head almost to a 90 degree angle, looking me over. I was doing the same to her.

She had a somewhat bushy tail behind her, and her eyes were a solid red color. Not like a bloodshot red- but her _irises_ were red.

 _A demon!_ I could hear my mother's voice crying. _The eyes of a demon!_

Well, if she really _was_ a demon, she was an adorable one.

"I guess I'm your new trainer," I told her.

"Pooch," she said in response. I had to wonder-

"Can you understand me?" I asked.

"Pooch," she responded. That didn't really clear anything up.

"Can you nod your head for me?" I asked. "Just so I know you can understand?"

Without any further instruction, she nodded her head a few times to show that she, in fact, _did_ understand me. I didn't know much about Pokemon, other than the fact that they're supposed to be evil demons according to my dead mother. But she seemed to calm. And innocent. She wagged her tail, not taking her eyes off of me. She seemed happy to be in my presence.

"Truth be told," I said to her, "I wasn't expecting to become a trainer tonight."

"Poochy!" she barked, wagging her tail even harder. She stood up from her sitting position, edging closer to me. She looked up, as if cautious of doing so. I tensed up. The horror stories from my childhood flooded back to me as she edged closer to my foot to sniff.

 _A little boy was found eaten alive in the woods!_ I heard my mother's voice cry. _They could hardly recognize him after those devil birds pecked away at him!_

Her snout touched my shoe, giving a little sniff. I watched her tail start to wag again. She looked up at me, not pulling her gaze away. Almost mesmerized.

"Pooch!" she barked.

"I have no idea what you're trying to tell me," I told her. I glanced at my Holly Band. Next to her icon that was dancing about on screen, a small footnote pulled up.

 **Your Pokemon is HUNGRY**.

I wasn't sure if the word hungry in all caps meant she was more hungry than just sorta hungry. None of this made much sense, but I rolled with it.

"You want something to eat?" I asked her. Her tail went into a sort of hyper speed, to the point I could barely see it. I felt something inside of me feel uneasy. Such a cute gesture made me lower my defenses a bit. I couldn't explain why. Such an odd feeling.

"I take that as a 'yes.'" I said with a smile. I got up from my bed, soon rummaging through my fridge. What the hell did Pokemon eat?

I saw my leftover hibachi in the takeout box.

I made sure to look up if it was safe to feed it to her on my phone. Sure enough, it was. I was a little surprised to find that she was more inclined to eat things than I was. I looked down at her, watching as she spun in circles. I knelt beside her, holding the takeout box in my hand.

"You want me to warm this up?" I asked her. "I don't know how you feel about hibachi, but- _HEY!_ "

She knocked the box out of my hand, dropping it onto the floor. I couldn't get mad at her from the way she went to work eating it. It didn't matter if it was on the floor or in the box- she ate every bit of it. Every vegetable, every little piece of chicken, and even all the rice. It was gone in a matter of seconds. When she was done, I heard her let out a relaxed "Pooch", flopping onto her side. Her tail was still wagging, but slower than before. She looked sleepy.

"At least I don't have to clean anything up," I chuckled, picking up the takeout box before she ate that too. I tossed it in the trash, throwing it across the room and making it into the can by the refrigerator.

I didn't waste any time stripping down to my underwear, pulling my covers aside so I could slip into bed.

To my surprise, the Poochyena hopped up onto the bed, standing at the foot of it.

I'd already moved underneath the covers, watching as she tip toed her way near me.

"You want under the covers?" I asked her, unsure. She nodded. I shrugged. "Okay, sure."

She wiggled her way underneath, nestling her small body beside me. She was the size of a small lap dog, and her fur was surprisingly warm.

I turned the lamp on my nightstand off, letting the darkness consume my apartment.

My arm wrapped around her tiny body.

I don't remember falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

 _ **For**_ the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up rested. The Poochyena didn't move much in her sleep, worrying me at first. I sat up in bed, watching her breathe. It was peaceful. And _exhausted_. I made sure to not wake her up when I got out of bed.

I went about my normal routine as I got ready for work, thinking about the unexpected night I had experienced.

 _There's always something that stops you from going through with it,_ I thought, letting the shower water run down my back.

I now had a Pokemon; that changed things.

 _But how_? I wondered, working the shampoo into my hair. I wasn't sure. I lathered up my body, trying not to think about it. But what I _did_ know was that my plans of offing myself were put on hold.

Getting out of the shower, I dried off with one towel, using a different one for my hair.

I don't keep my hair long- it's just that thick.

"I'll laugh if I go bald when I'm thirty," I told my reflection in the mirror. "Probably won't make it that far though."

I walked on the balls of my feet when I went out of the bathroom, only wearing a pair of purple boxers.

One thing I was happy about moving back to stocking shelves: no strict dress code. I slid on a pair of jeans, faded and a little more baggy than I was used to. I hadn't worn them in ages. I put on my favorite purple shirt of a cartoon depiction of a Gengar. It was faded and a little worn.

Purple shirt? Purple underwear?

Yes, purple is my favorite color, if you couldn't already tell.

The Poochyena let out a yawn, stretching her legs out as I was putting on my shoes.

"Looks like you slept well," I commented. At this, she wagged her tail with perked ears. I glanced at the Pokeball sitting on my nightstand. Amber had told me that Pokemon who had undergone trauma didn't like to be put in their Pokeball. But I couldn't just leave her in my apartment by herself. I could only see one possible option.

"You wanna come to work with me?'

"Pooch!"

I took that as a yes.

 _ **Working**_ at Pokemart sucks, but it does have its perks.

Pokemon Trainers who work there are not only allowed to have their Pokemon out, but are actually _encouraged_ to do so. Janet had brought the subject up with me nearly a dozen times that month alone. She was never subtle about the subject. We'd have the usual back and forth conversations that rarely altered throughout the years of working there. She'd try to convince me that I should get a Pokemon, and I'd always feed her some excuse as to why I didn't want to get one. I glanced down to my Poochyena as she walked by my side.

I never even considered having a Pokemon before the night before. I knew I'd end up winning some brownie points with Janet. After making that bitch faint the other day, I knew I'd need a few.

My Poochyena stuck by my side, cheerfully patting her paws along the sidewalk, matching with my footsteps. I watched as she attempted to match my steps, treating it almost like a game. Her tail never stopped wagging. Her spirits were high, and she wasn't in pain- a definite change from when I found her.

That, and nobody was trying to violate her.

I began to regret not chasing after those kids. My mind wandered, mulling over the subject as I lit a cigarette for myself.

What would I have even done if I _did_ catch them? Even if I wasn't planning on killing myself, I hadn't the slightest idea. It wasn't like I could beat the crap out of some teenagers. And would I really turn them into the police? They were kids after all.

 _They who were kids trying to rape a defenseless Pokemon,_ a voice in the back of my head called out to me. _They knew what they were doing._

I looked down to my happy Poochyena. Who would do such a thing?

I pushed everything in my mind aside. It was done and over with. I was just happy she was okay.

 _ **Janet**_ was overjoyed.

"When did you get this cute thing?" she beamed, bending down to pet my Poochyena.

"Last night,' I said, leaving it at that. "What aisle do you want me to-"

"Well she couldn't have put up much of a fight," she interrupted. "She's so loving and sweet!"

My Poochyena nuzzled her head into her hand, loving the attention. Janet squealed with delight. "What's its name?"

"She doesn't have one yet," I humored her. I just wanted to get my shift over with. I could see the gears in her head moving.

"What about Lily?" she suggested. "Oh! Or Better! Mayflower would be cute too!"

My Poochyena wagged her tail, loving the ear scratches.

 _All of those are terrible_ , I thought. I fought the urge to visibly cringe at her taste in names.

"I guess I'll have to think of one for her," I said.

Janet reluctantly stood back up, smiling down at my Pokemon. The smile faded the longer she stared at my Gengar shirt.

"Wes," she said tactfully, "you know how I feel about that shirt. We talked about it when you first started stocking shelves.

 _Oh, for fuck sake_.

"I'm sorry," I forced out of me. "I won't wear it to work again."

If I agreed with my mother on one thing, it was that Gengars and their prior evolutions are essentially devils. I got the shirt out of spite years ago. Back when she was still alive.

"Thank you," Janet said with professionalism. Her smiled returned as she watched my Pokemon chase her tail. "Go ahead and start with isle 9 for today."

Before leaving me to go about my work, she bent down to give my Poochyena a few last pets on the head.

"I personally think you'd make an _adorable_ Betty or Mayflower."

 _And_ I _think your taste in names are shit_ , I fought to keep inside my mind, not wanting it to burst out.

I was already in enough hot water as it was.

 _ **I'd**_ come slightly unprepared that afternoon, not bringing a box cutter with me. But, as it turned out, I really didn't even need one. Not having a box cutter ended up working out better than I expected.

A small crowd of kids, most accompanied by an adult, watched with glee as my Poochyena scratched through the box tape. Each time she did, she would look up at me, her eyes screaming _did I do a good job?!_ I'd pet her head, her tail picking up speed as it always did when she was pet.

I would stock what was in the boxes I had her tear open, mostly consisting of small toys for Pokemon. My Poochyena stayed a good girl and not once was tempted by the chew toys. Kids would come up, usually one at a time, asking to pet her.

I can't explain why, or at least at the time, that I was happy to let them. I don't want you getting the wrong idea and think I'm some kind of dick. I was surprised with myself because I'm more often than not a quiet person; a total introvert who struggles to even make small talk when I find myself trapped in social situations.

Today, I felt a little different. There was a warm, bubbly sensation inside me that felt foreign. I didn't feel like me. In fact, I was to go as far as to saying that it _wasn't_ me.

"Of course you can pet her," I told a little girl who'd approached the two of us. She couldn't have been older than seven, her small hand gently petting my Poochyena's ears.

"What's her name?" she asked, giggling when my Poochyena licked her hand. I was starting to wonder how many times I was going to be asked that question.

"I haven' named her yet," I admitted. "I haven't even thought of anything."

The little girl knelt down by my Poochyena, tussling her ears with both hands. Poochyena loved it, her tail going into hyper-drive.

"I have a name," the little girl told me. "I have a best friend named Cahya. She's very nice. Like she is!"

She giggled once more, assaulted by a handful of playful licks to the face.

 _Cahya. Cahya?_ I kept repeating the name over and over again in my head. I mouthed it a few times. I liked the sound of it; it was rather fitting. Different, but fitting. I looked down to my Pokemon.

 _Cahya_.

"That _is_ a really pretty name," I told the girl, her mouth widened, revealing a missing tooth as she smiled. My Poochyena looked up at me, as if peering through my eyes and into my soul. It made me wonder how _she_ felt about the name.

"How would you like to be called Cahya?" I asked her.

I was expecting a "Pooch."

Instead, she damn near slammed me into the nearby shelf when she threw herself at me, licking my face like it were made of sugar. Her tail was going so far I could hardly see it; it was just a blur at that point. I couldn't help myself from laughing.

"I'll take that as a yes," I laughed.

She refused to stop licking me. I couldn't control my laughter.

It's funny how life can change overnight.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

 _ **Cahya**_ and I were inseparable that week. Life went on with its usual motions: wake up, go to work, go home, do nothing, then go to bed. Despite following my regular schedule, it felt as though _everything_ was different. I'd wake up with Cahya by my side, her tiny body cuddled next to me as close as it could get. If she wasn't asleep when I woke up, she substituted as an alarm, licking my face until I was pulled from whatever dream I might have been having. I couldn't even get mad at her for it. She was too damn cute.

Her and I would eat breakfast together; usually cereal. I don't have an actual table to sit down and eat at, usually just sitting at my computer desk and using what little available space that I have. Cahya would be by my side, wherever I chose to sit at, lapping up the cereal with her tail going wild. Who would have thought a bowl of coco flakes would make someone so happy? She ate everything offered to her with such an astounding sense of joy and satisfaction. I couldn't help but wonder what she'd been living off _before_ being under my care.

One day, when she was eating her usual breakfast, a heaping bowl of coco flakes with plenty of milk, she took my by surprise, playing with her food. I glanced down at the perfect time, watching as she dipped her nose into the bowl. I found myself entranced by the bubbles she made with her nose.

"Cahya, that's so gross," I laughed. "Stop that."

She lifted her snout out of the bowl, eyes squinted closed. The biggest, goofiest smile was plastered on her face, tail still wagging. She'd never been a messy eater, hardly ever getting food on her face. I got a damp paper towel, going to clean her nose and mouth off. Her tail stopped wagging when I started to clean her face. I found her staring into my eyes again. She'd do this every now and then. It was never off putting, but it always stopped me dead in my tracks.

For a short time, the two of us just looked into each others eyes. And I couldn't understand why I couldn't pull away. I didn't _want_ to pull away. But I forced myself too, looking down at what I'd removed from her face. There was far more than just milk. A layer of dirt had been removed from her face. I blinked a few times, struggling to understand how so much filth could be stuck in her fur. I had to wonder if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Surly it was just some of the dark fur on her face that I was getting stuck to the paper towel.

But no. That wasn't it. There was no denying that she was filthy. I felt a little weary knowing that I hadn't considered bathing her _before_ she slept in my bed. She didn't _look_ dirty though; that was the problem. Her fur hid it well.

"Looks like someone needs a bath," I said.

Her eyes widened, ears pulling back. Cahya acted like I had sentenced her to the electric chair. I reached down, Cahya back-stepping a little. I frowned.

"I'm not going to grab you," I assured her. "I just want to pet you."

She looked a little unsure, stepping towards me with a trembling paw.

"You don't like water huh?" I asked.

Taking me by surprise, she shook her head. Like a human. It made me smile.

"Cahya," I told her calmly, "we have to get you clean. It's no fun being dirty."

"Pooch..." she boofed; a well worded rebuttal.

"I promise it'll be okay," I assured her. "I'll be right next to you the whole time."

Her tail wagged with a certain weakness that made me feel guilty for wanting to give her a bath.

"How about we make a deal?" I asked her. That made one of her ears perk back up, the other staying behind. "If you take a bath, I'll buy you a toy at work today."

Her other ear perked up, wagging her tail with a little more vigor.

"Is that a deal?" I asked.

She nodded her head, again taking me by surprise.

 _ **I**_ got the bath water ready for her, Cahya pressed into the side of my leg as I leaned over the tub. I could feel her shaking. I reached down, petting her head.

"It's okay, sweetheart," I comforted. I could feel her relax a little.

I made sure not to let the bath water go up too high; I didn't want her getting afraid of drowning somehow. Once I had gotten the perfect temperature, I turned off the water, making sure it wasn't too high for her. Everything was perfect.

Cahya, however, wasn't entirely convinced. I dipped my hand in the water, splashing it around to show her that it was, in fact, water- not a vat of acid or boiling lava.

"See?" I told her. "It's fine."

"Pooch..." she huffed, head lightly butting into my hip. I pet slowly, wondering what else I could do to convince her. She looked up at me, giving another "pooch", standing up on her back legs with her front legs against the side of the bath. She struggled to try and see the water inside. Her tail didn't wag.

"I'm gonna put you in," I warned her. "Is that okay?"

She looked to me, her ears pressed back once more. She gave the saddest look I've ever seen, even for a human. Reluctant, she nodded. I tussled one of her ears, making her tail start up again.

"You're a good girl," I told her. "I'm proud of you for being so brave."

Her tail wagged a little more, her eyes sinking into mine.

"Are you a good girl?" I asked playfully. Her eyes opened wider, dilating. She looked at me as if I were a bowl of coco cereal, tail wagging even harder.

 _Good girl_ , I repeated in my head. Each time I told her she was a good girl I would _feel_ something. A spike of some kind that I couldn't describe. I hadn't been serious about Amber's offer to come see her if I had any questions, but I knew I _had_ to. There was too much I still didn't understand. I _had_ to know what was going on with me. And why I felt so bubbly all the time. Still, I knew there was a small part of me, a voice inside my head, wishing to be rid of the world around me.

Depression had always played such a major role in my life. The lead role which was showered with attention center stage. And now its role had been diminished, having been pushed behind the curtain. Sure, it was still there, muttering about how upset it was for having its lines stripped away from it, but the ranting and raving was muffled. It made me wonder who was playing the lead role of the play of my emotions. If there even _was_ a lead role. Perhaps my mind was now void of any actors, the only actor I had ever known now forced to watch an empty stage with frustration.

"Pooch?" Cahya said, snapping me back to reality.

"Sorry, sweetheart," I chuckled. "I got a little lost in my thoughts. It happens a lot. You ready to go in?"

She took a deep breath, nodding once more.

I picked her up, carefully lowering her to the water. By the way she looked, innocently paddling her feet, I had to wonder if she _was_ considering this to be a vat of acid I was lowering her into. Like some sort of cliché villain lowering the damsel in distress into peril, just waiting for the hero to burst through the door to save her.

I figured that _I_ would have to be both hero and villain in that episode of bath time.

I couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Paws inches away from the surface, she began to paddle more. Then whimpered.

"It's okay, sweetheart," I eased. "I promise it'll be alright."

Her continuation of whining didn't sound like she was convinced.

I went for it, lowering her all the way in. She continued to whine with her ears all the way back, kicking her feet in an attempt to tread the water, even if it only went up to her chest. I didn't let go. Not yet. She turned her head to face me. Those puppy dog eyes tore into my heart.

I'd done nothing wrong, yet felt as though I'd thrown a baby into a raging ocean. I had to wonder if that's how she saw the tub: a sea of angry water just wanting to suck her in.

I slowly began to let go. She yelped. I made sure to keep one hand on her at all times, to remind her that I wasn't going to let her drown.

In less than six inches of water.

Ouch!

[( _It was more than that! And it was terrifying!)_ ]

Fine, Cahya. _Eight_ inches of water.

Sorry. Where was I? Oh! Right.

Cahya stopped whimpering, but her body still trembled. I pet her head, getting the wash cloth ready. The water had already grown darker from the grime she'd had caked in the fur on her lower body. I found myself unsure as to what to use on her. Shampoo? Or body wash? I hadn't really thought about how to bathe a Pokemon. Considering she was covered in fur, I stuck with Shampoo. Fur was pretty much like hair, wasn't it? Just thicker?

She shivered when I lathered the shampoo on her back, although looked more relaxed than she had originally been.

"See?" I soothed, washing the grime and dirt out of her fur. "It's not so bad, right?"

Though her ears were still folded back, I could see her tail wag, surfacing the water. It motioned like a drunken water snake. I focused on trying not to scrub too hard. She began to whimper a little, more hushed than before. Like she was trying to fight her fear from slipping out. Cahya stood as stiff as stone.

Guilt continued to consume me.

And then an idea hit me like a brick.

"Hang on a second," I told her, pulling away from the tub. She began to cry louder in panic now that I had let go of her, the "sea" of dirty, bubbly bath water free to take its prey.

"I'm right here, pup," I assured her. "I just need to grab something really quick."

A long time ago, on a night that I _wasn't_ determined to kill myself, I'd gone out drinking, alone as usual. I drank so much that night that I _still_ don't really know what happened after my twelth shot. I woke up in the bathroom the next morning, laying naked in the tub, with a rubber ducky on my stomach.

I don't have any idea why or even how I ended up with one. But I kept it, in the hopes that the yellow ducky memento might one day unlock the story of that drunken adventure. So far, it hasn't. At least I had a use for it now.

"Look!" I said with excitement. Cahya's cries stopped immediately, suddenly enticed by the silly looking rubber duck. She backed up in the tub, her butt bumping against it. Cahya boofed at it: a subtle "Pooch" that was her own version of a warning bark. I laughed.

"He's not gonna bite you," I said. I wobbled the ducky in the water, making it "swim".

"Hi little doggy," I made it talk, using a squeaky, high pitched voice. Her tail began to wave through the dirty bath water. I made the ducky sink under the water, holding it there. Cahya gave the biggest smile. Her nose edged closer to it, stumbling back when it resurfaced.

"Pooh!" she cried, bopping its tiny rubber head with her paw.

"Ouchie!" I made the ducky cry. Cayha's tail was going so fast that she started splashing water about. I let go of the ducky, letting it float on its own so I could resume washing her. She had no issues after that, her fear of bath water no longer taking precedence. She wagged her tail as she moved it about with her paws, sitting down so she could try to grab it.

 _Kind of a weird thing for a dog to do_ , I thought to myself. I had to remember: she was a _Pokemon_. Not an animal. She might have shared the physical appearance of a dog, but she was far from one. Far smarter than one too. I was careful around her face when I washed her, doing my best to get every bit of her cleaned off. By the time she was all clean, that bath water looked like a swamp.

I drained the tub, having to turn the shower on to rinse her off, for good measure. She'd been sitting in that gross water for a while. I didn't want it all soaking back into her fur. She shivered a little from the sudden change of temperature, but I made it quick, and it was over before she knew it.

"There you go," I said, somewhat proud of my work. "You're all clean."

Her fur looked a few shades lighter than it had been.

I sat on the bathroom floor, drying her off with one of my many towels. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of me. Again, I found myself locked in a staring contest. She just... didn't want to look away. I didn't know if she was angry, happy, sad- hell, maybe all three with a sprinkle of feeling betrayed.

"Are you okay, Cahya?" I asked.

She jerked forward. For a split second, I swore she was going to latch onto my face and gnaw it off with her teeth.

She licked my mouth, several times in fact. I laughed, pushing her away.

"Cut it out!" I couldn't control my laughter. I felt her bury her head in my chest.

I felt something that I didn't quiet understand. Something I had forgotten existed. An internal warmth of feeling whole. She'd only been with me for about a week, and yet I felt like I'd had her my entire life.

I could hear my depression muttering behind the curtains of my mind's stage again.

Perhaps it was jealous of the actor on stage that I then recognized: contentment.

"Let's get going," I told Cahya, finally finished drying her. "I don't feel like having Janet bitch me out for being late."

"Pooch!" she responded, which I believed to be her way of saying: _okay!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

 _ **Work**_ drug on, and I was getting sick of stocking the same shit over and over again. It reminded me why I'd been so relieved to go from the stock crew to the cash registers. But at least there weren't stupid customers to deal with while stocking shelves.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Who the hell am I kidding? Annoying customers are in _every_ department of a store.

"Yes?" I turned my head, knelt down in aisle seven, stocking cans of food. Cahya had stopped helping too, looking up at a woman in a dirty wool sweater. It had to have been eighty degrees that day. The look on her weathered, twisted face was that of a woman who was stuck between layers of reality: what was truly there and what was in her mind. She was jerking her neck from side to side, looking in various directions. It wasn't until she looked directly up that I could firmly conclude that she, was in fact, not in her right mind.

"I'm looking for baby food." Her voice was harsh, yet had a subtle tremble to it. It reminded me of a smoker who'd been forced to stand outside in the cold to burn one down. A rather strange analogy considering how hot out it was that day. And _why_ the _fuck_ was she wearing a _sweater_?

"Baby food is in aisle 10, near the back." I tried my best to act natural. Do you understand how hard it is to act casual around a crazy person? I don't know how I managed. Cahya stared with her jaw open; I think she was just as blown away as I was. Except she showed her disbelief. I was paid minimum wage to repress mine.

"Oh _thank_ you, honey!" she rejoiced, throwing her hands into the air.

 _Did this bitch snuff a bag of star dust?_ I had to wonder.

"You're welcome," I said, unable to force myself to sound sweet and charming like the training videos years ago had told me to do. Training people to pretend like they're not human is immoral.

"My babies only eat _special_ food," she informed me, even though I hadn't asked.

"That's very... thoughtful of you to feed you kids special baby food," I humored her. I felt like I was trapped in a cage. Her eyes drifted in different directions, showing crooked, yellow teeth when she smiled.

"My kittens _love_ when they get their treaty-wheatys!" she oohed.

Cats? _Eating baby food?_

"You feed your cats baby food?" The question slipped out of me before I had time to fully process what she'd just told me.

"They're my _baby waybies_." she pushed her hands together in front of her, fingers laced together. I could see how long her nails were.

I turned to face my work. I didn't end the conversation. I didn't dismiss her. Just turned my head towards the cans I was stocking, picking up where I had left off, not saying another word to her. I didn't know how it would fly over. But the interaction had become so uncomfortable, like oil on skin, that I was forced to _literally_ turn away from it. I kept my head down as I shuffled the cans about in front of me, pretending like what I was doing was necessary. They were all the same.

Her footsteps trailed down the aisle, giving me the opportunity to glance over my shoulder to see if she was really leaving. Sure enough, she wandered away down the aisle, back facing me, taking her time as she laid most of her body weight against the empty shopping cart that she was pushing.

"Holy fuck that was weird," I muttered to myself.

"Pooch..." Cahya added.

We went back to work, getting into the swing of things once again.

"Thank you for helping me," I thanked her. I felt her lick my hand. I looked over to her, overwhelmed by a sense of joy. She'd been cutting open the boxes without any form of protest, and had even started to help me put cans on the shelf. She had to use her mouth, seeing as her paws struggled to pinch cans together and lift. When she tried, it made me think about her playing with the rubber ducky in the tub that afternoon.

"Have you thought about a toy you want for being so brave?"

Cahya tilted her head to one side, after a moment shaking it slowly. Still no idea, it seemed. I gave her a smile that provoked more tail wagging on her end.

"Well, we've got a little more time to think about it," I told her. "We're almost done. Then we can-"

 **CRASH!**

Cahya and I jumped- had the building exploded?

Rationality flooded back to me. It wasn't an explosion. It was an aisle collapsing.

 _ **This**_ was one of the few occasions that I felt bad for Janet, considering she was standing at the foot of possibly one of the worse messes in Pokemart history. And most expensive.

The crazy woman from before had stumbled into a random aisle- quite far from the baby food I might add- and had been struggling to reach something on the top shelf. I wasn't entirely sure _what_ it was that was so important for her to start climbing the shelves like a ladder. Sure enough, she'd managed to topple the entire shelf rack over, resulting in not only one aisle falling over, but the next to topple as well. The isles in question were the electronics as well our automotive section.

Nearly everything was ruined, most of the motor oil having burst open from the crash.

Janet was visibly having issues trying to remain calm, her Machamp Rusty mimicking her feelings. They had a strange connection- whenever she felt happy, so did he. When she was sad, Rusty tended to drag his arms a bit. And when Janet was angry, the few times she struggled to hold back and showed true human emotion, Rusty was _terrifying._ I saw a video online of a dude getting his limbs torn off by a Machamp once. Ever since I'd witnessed the atrocity, I always pictured Rusty doing the same to a customer. And from the way he was glaring at the crazy lady, I was beginning to wonder if fantasy would merge with reality.

"Ma'am," Janet strained- I could hear the hatred and rage plucking her vocal cords like bassist playing a solo. "I need you to please explain to me how this happened."

"There he was!" Crazy-lady went off. "Just sittin' up there!"

Janet's eye twitched.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" she hissed.

Rusty flexed his muscles. Nearly every employee designated to stocking shelves, and even a few cashiers who'd wandered over to see what had happened, flinched. I don't know how to describe how terrifying Rusty can be when he's pissed off. Just looking at a customer who was attempting theft made them confess. I even witnessed him make someone piss themselves before. Seriously I _cannot_ express just how frightening he can get.

Crazy-lady wasn't phased by _any_ of it though. She really _was_ nuts.

"We're about to see another window replaced in a minute," I heard a cashier whispered to a stock crew member.

"The Pikachu!" Crazy-lady explained.

Janet looked like she was struggling to ask what the hell she meant.

"A _Pikachu_?" Janet followed with.

"Yes!" Crazy-lady cried. "He was trapped in a _box_!"

Nearly every employee had to avert eye contact with the lady. We all knew what it was.

A month ago, we had toy Pikachu animatronics sent to us. They're meant to entertain kids, but all they really did was annoy the shit out of everyone. They would wiggle about when someone would pass by them. Every single time, and they wouldn't shut up. We were forced to leave them on demo mode, setting them off when we had to stock them, or when the cashiers scanned them. They were possibly the most annoying addition to our store, so much to the point that Janet had to compromise with us.

She made sure to set them on the top shelf in the electronics department, that way there was less of a chance of setting them off. Sure, they'd still sometimes register that someone would walk past, but it rarely happened after that. The sensors were good, but not _that_ good.

Why were they in electronics and not the toy section?

Well, the "Talk To You, Pikachu!" is one of the most expensive things we have in store, so it was decided to keep them with the rest of the expensive electronics- where most of our security camera's are. All things considered, it's well made. It moves like a real Pikachu, talks like one, and to a child, could easily pass as one.

Or, if you're a nutjob, it would seem.

"I passed by, looking for food for my babies," she explained, throwing her arms in the air. "And I heard a sign!"

Janet no longer seemed as upset. She just looked... uncomfortable.

"Ma'am, I-"

"I wasn't sure if it was the Almighty speaking to me again, but it _was_! He spoke to me through a Pikachu on the top shelf! He told me 'Pika pika chu!' And I _understood!_ The Almighty speaks clear to those who choose to listen! And to those who defy the false prophet Arceus!" Crazy-lady inched closer to Janet, making Rusty side step in front of her. She leaned in, making Janet crane her head back away from her. "Do you know what I heard?"

Janet said nothing.

"Pika Pika chu!" Crazy-lady burst. " _I am your GOD_! The Almighty speaks through parables! He wanted me to _free_ the caged Pokemon, by speaking _through_ it! And how _dare_ you cage an innocent Pokemon! They are bringers of His word!"

The book of The Almighty, the one my mother preached to me from my entire life, says nothing about Pokemon. But everyone seems to have their own interpretation. I wasn't surprised that someone as bat shit crazy as the woman who'd climbed a shelf to save a toy would assume that they were angels. I watched as Janet pulled out her cell phone.

"Rusty, please escort this woman to the office."

Rusty did as he was told, lifting the woman above his head as if she weighed nothing.

"You are free, Pikachu!" Crazy-lady belted as she was carried away. "Free! Free free free free fee! _Free!_ "

We all stood by as Janet made the call, which was brief. She didn't bother trying to explain what had happened, only stating that she needed an officer. She hung up, looking to everyone.

"Okay," she breathed out. "This is certainly a mess." She tried to force a laugh. None of us bought it. I don't think she did either. She straightened herself out, not trying to sugarcoat things like she was paid to do. "I need all stock crew members to help clean this up and any cashiers willing to help out."

Everyone looked at each other. None of the cashiers looked very generous. Most of the stockers looked like they were going to try and pretend they were either blind, deaf, or dumb to get out of the mess they found themselves in. Janet sighed.

"Anyone who helps clean up the mess will be paid time an a half."

Nobody piped up. She laid on hand on her face.

"Double time. No more."

We all knew there was no way out of it. None of the cashiers stayed to help, even with the incentive of double time.

I didn't blame any of them for not wanting to.


End file.
